


Looking To See If It Was You

by gala_apples



Series: The Loverboy Diet [3]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Arguing, Dom/sub, Fasting, First Meetings, M/M, Misunderstandings, Pre-OT6 - Freeform, Subdrop, Under-negotiated Kink, Urban Fantasy, revealing secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-24
Updated: 2015-02-24
Packaged: 2018-03-14 21:30:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3426254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gala_apples/pseuds/gala_apples
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Sunday afternoon, and a rare weekend that Ryan has time to hang out all day. But other things are rarer, like finally meeting Geoff, after two and a half years of Gavin keeping them separate. Or like a master magician offering to counter Michael's hex during off business hours, at cheaper than the going rate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Looking To See If It Was You

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has Michael emancipated from emotionally abusive and intolerant parents. I have purposely done zero research on his RL family and siblings, because that's my personal RPF line in the sand. I don't even know their names. Anything I've written about them is surely not true. This is seconded about everyone else's families.
> 
> Everyone's above the age of consent in this fic, but there are some high school/college relationships, and it's implied this relationship has gone on a while.
> 
> This fic also has non-con magical curses leading to non-con kissing.

The first thing Michael does when he wakes up is arch his back until his spine pops. There’s just something about a good stretch. He could almost understand doing yoga, if the proponents weren’t all self-righteous hipster vegan assholes.

He’s hungry. It’s not the first time he’s woken up hungry. He’s a growing fuckin’ boy, okay. The difference is this time Michael can’t make himself breakfast. He also won’t be able to make lunch or dinner, but that’s a problem for later hours. Right now the only thing to do is curl his newly stretched body into a loose fetal position and fall back asleep. It’s Sunday, so fucking sue him for sleeping in on the one day he can. 

The first thing Michael does the second time he wakes up is text Ryan. It’s past noon, according to the time glowing up at him from the middle of his phone. Sleeping in that late is good for his mind, body, and even his soul. Maybe especially his soul. Sleeping in is something Michael wants to do, and can actually let himself do. That’s pretty great. Thing is, he can’t remember if they actually set a time to hang out, beyond Ray’s house is available from dawn til dusk. 

**you talk to ray? what time can we come over**

**Good timing. I’m halfway to your place. So right now.**

Well that answers that, then. Michael shoves the blankets off in one nasty movement. The air conditioning propels him up and to his clean laundry hamper in a matter of seconds. Polka dot novelty socks, gitch, Halo t-shirt, jeans- all that’s left is to grab a few bracelets from the totally manly jewellry box he has, and he’s done. 

Michael waits for Ryan outside. The planter boxes are full of scorched earth and brown flowers, so he feels totally justified using one as a seat. It’s not like his fat ass is killing anything. Everything’s already dead. And better wobbly seating and a bit of crumbly earth on his pants than be in his apartment. Not only can he see Ryan coming and by at the curb by the time he pulls to a stop, the sunshine doesn’t make him shiver the way the AC does. Besides, vitamin D is good for bruising.

The car smells amazing when he climbs in. Like all his breakfast dreams have crawled into his nose and given birth to unicorns. Michael looks around the few likely places for the source. It’s obviously not from the dash, and there’s nothing on the floor bump between the driver and passenger seat. The backseats are harder to visually clear, scattered full with random shit. Clearly Ryan’s fuckbuddy/friend/whatever Monica hasn’t been in the car for a few days, because it would be spic and fucking span if she had her way for five minutes. But sitting on top of a guitar and a suit jacket is a bag of fast food, top of the paper bag crumple-rolled proof that it’s already been eaten from.

“How the hell’d you get hot McDonald’s breakfast at almost one?” Michael questions, before belatedly tagging on “also, morning.”

“Good morning,” Ryan replies, stroking Michael’s inner leg from thigh to knee. “I didn’t. I went at quarter to eleven, since I know how much you hate customers fucking up your work schedule. I’m just using a warming cube.”

Michael rolls his eyes. Duh. Warming cubes are expensive disposable charms, but they are intended for this exact purpose. He really has acclimated to being poor as fuck when a one off charm doesn’t occur to him.

“I ate already, but I got you an Egg McMuffin.”

Michael needs to play this right. He has to keep his response realistic while not giving Ryan any room to force it on him. “Nah, I had two bowls of cereal earlier.”

“Really?”

Fuck. How did he mess such a simple reply up? He said like one sentence. Did he not say enough, or use the wrong tone or-

“Earlier? It’s Sunday, what are you doing getting up earlier than me picking you up at noon?”

Michael shrugs against the cool leather. “Not that much earlier.”

“Come on, you can eat it.”

“Do you want my guts to rupture? Pretty little kidney all over your dashboard? Give it to Ray. Maybe he’ll be a weekend lounger and it’ll be you feeding him in bed. It’ll be romantic.”

Ryan concedes, “Okay, whatever. Up to you.”

It’s really not. It’s not, and that’s incredibly frustrating. On the list of things Michael never wants to do, not letting himself eat a hot McDonalds breakfast bought specifically for him is high up there. Not eating in general is pretty bullshit. It’s insulting that his references have been mostly Cosmo and pro-ana websites, and christ, which one is the lesser of two evils there? But considering he can’t afford a doctor or a magician, borderline offensive articles about ‘cleansing’ are the best he’s going to do.

By the grace of GPS they get to Ray’s house without taking a detour through Dallas, or like, Montana. For a guy who has shit to do all over Austin on a daily basis, Ryan has essentially zero memory for geography. Ryan parks and Michael pushes his phone back into his pocket. Gavin hasn’t answered any of the few texts he’s sent. It isn’t all that surprising, as much as Michael’d like a response. Part of Gavin’s journeyman contract is that he gets taught something every day. Since the plans to hang out will hopefully take up most of the day, Gavin’s probably getting the lesson over with now rather than having a time crunch later. Obviously Michael doesn’t know that for sure. Gav would never share Geoff’s education strategy, that’s too much like talking about magic. Still, Michael knows his boi. Gavin doesn’t like feeling stressed. Having to learn something ten minutes before midnight is stressful.

It’s not Ray that opens the door. Michael’s not so wild guess is it’s Ray’s brother. He’s got the same face, even if he’s got more goatee and a smoother complexion. If this is what Ray’s going to look like in five years, Michael’s in it for the long haul.

“Carlos?” Michael hazards. He’s not sure how much conversation he needs to have before he can bolt to the boyfriend. It’s been two years since he’s talked to the Haywoods, he’s never talked to Geoff, obviously, and there’s a difference between family-you-live-with and people-you-live-with, so he never really bothered with being polite to Caleb.

“No. The other brother. Diego. One of you must be Ryan, the car guy.”

Ryan tilts his head. “That’d be me.”

“Huh. No one said you were sketchily older. Keep on with it, though. The more you drive him the less me or mom do.” Diego cocks a smile that looks more friendly than anything Ezekiel could ever manage. Michael almost smiles back before remembering that his brothers weren’t threatening to outsiders either. Until he can actually talk to Ray about it, he’s going to coast on bare minimum manners.

“Will do,” Ryan agrees. “He awake?”

“No clue. They’re downstairs though. Do your worst,” is his parting comment before he fades back from the doorframe to the upper level to let them come in.

The plural pronoun is enough of a hint that Michael looks around the floor. Sure enough, Gavin’s shoes are still there, though they’re half buried under the rest of the Narvaez family’s, those who have been in and out after him. Michael torn about it. His boi’s decision making skills are irritating. Gavin’s going to have to leave earlier now, to make sure Geoff has enough time to impart masterly wisdom. That sucks. At the same time, he can’t be too pissed. It’s not like he wouldn’t have slept over, if Carlos hadn’t dicked him with the food mention.

Michael doesn’t die descending the stairs. Ryan closing the door behind them makes sense, but it cuts off the light completely. Thankfully the basement’s not quite pitch black. A few of the consoles have glowing lights and they illuminate the space by the tv surprisingly well. Even brighter than that is the sliver of light coning out from the side of the room. Ray must have flicked the bathroom switch on then left the door open a bit. 

It’s bright enough that Ryan can sneak across the room and nudge the door open fully without tripping and impaling himself. He probably doesn’t actually need to. Ryan’s got great night vision with his years of training in switching props and scenery with the stage lights off. His action is for Michael’s sake. Maybe Ray’s, since his eyesight is obviously crap, glasses and all. More stage training; Ryan does it quietly enough that both of the sleeping parties stay asleep. In the middle of the goddamn floor. Rather than sleep on both sides of the sectional, as makes sense, Gavin and Ray have pulled all the cushions off the couch and made a wide bed on the floor. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what that means, especially not when the entire basement smells like spunk. 

“You son of a bitch!” Michael says. It’s not quite a shout, but he’s not keeping it down either. They’ll have to wake up sooner or later. Might as well be sooner.

Ray answers immediately, and much more vigorously than Michael would have predicted. He sits up straight, with enough force that the cushion underneath his butt slides. He also knees Gavin in the back. “Gavin, what the hell?”

“Whaa?” Gavin mutters into what is no doubt by now a drool stained throw pillow.

“What didn’t you tell me this time?”

This time Gavin deigns to answer in something more than a mumble. “What are you on about?”

“You said poly didn’t have many rules.” Gavin grunts an affirmative, and Ray shoves his shoulder. “Which is obviously _crap_ , because they’re pissed we got off without them.”

“Yeah,” Michael agrees. 

“No,” Ryan contradicts at the exact same time.

It’s not really a contradiction though, because Michael knows what Ryan means. Ryan got it before he did, and Ryan’s totally the right one. “Yeah, no.”

“What?”

“Look. We were pissed yesterday when you got Baby’s First Handjob?”

“Please never say it like that again,” Ray requests.

“It is unbearably creepy.” 

“Fine,” Michael concedes. From Ryan _unbearably creepy_ means a lot. “But were we? Or Ryan about the three of us? No. That’s because our thing doesn’t have a musketeer rule. Not only does Gavin have the classic relationship with Geoff, Ryan has fun college times. And it’s not just that preventing the musketeer thing. This weekend’s been kind of a fluke. Usually there’s no way we’d get all of both afternoons. We’re busy and it’s not anything less if you can’t see both- everyone now, I guess. If you can’t see everyone at once. Ryan said no we’re not pissed because he meant that. I said yes because I’ve been wanting to get off all night and this morning over breakfast and it smells like a goddamn brothel in here, so I’m guessing you’re currently spent.”

“Yeah, but according to your rules, you and Ryan could do stuff.”

Thanks to the bathroom illumination, Michael can actually see where the switch on the wall is. It’s probably not the nicest thing to do, but meh. Michael flicks the light on without warning the ground sleepers that it’s coming. Ray takes it well, his only reaction is to go from a glasses-less squint to rapid blinking. Gavin wails and shoves his face into the throw pillow.

A second belated, he replies. “I’d rather wait.” 

Once their balls reload it’ll be Michael’s first foursome. Assuming Carlos doesn’t fuck him over again, at least. That’s worth giving it some time.

“Get up, it’s dating time,” Ryan instructs. He plants his foot on Gavin’s butt, clearly visible through the knitted blanket, and twists from left to right as Gavin groans.

Ray laughs. “Wow, you were right. Their romance is overwhelming.”

“I say what I mean and mean what I say, dude. But seriously, get up. Where are your dvds at? We can watch one on the 360.”

It’s a group effort, but they manage to get the cushions back on the couch frame, the blankets folded, Tenacious D and The Pick Of Destiny chosen and inserted, the coffee table moved, and pulpy orange juice poured. Michael takes his glass without much worry. All four glasses are identical, it should be pretty easy to switch his for someone else’s at some point. Especially Gavin’s. His boi is still half asleep, feet on Ryan’s legs, head on Ray’s shoulder. Ray’s basically returning the favour, his own temple resting on Gav’s skull. For a brief second Michael wonders what it means that Ray’s able to have a sleepy afterglow with Gav, when he couldn’t with him yesterday. Then he shakes it off. Maybe Ray _does_ feel more comfortable with Gavin than Michael. Good. That’s how he set it up, that they had a multiple hour single date bookending the group date. This is a positive outcome. Besides, it’s possible that’s not even the case. If they fooled around more than once in the night, Ray might just be sleep deprived, not actually cuddly.

***

For a long portion of the afternoon things are the same as yesterday, all video games, groping, and conversation that ranges from friendly chat to innuendo. Not quite smutty enough to propel them into sex, but Michael isn’t all that anxious for it. He _wants_ it, but a non-dirty date is fun too. There’s even the same moment of Geoff contacting Gavin. This time it goes a bit more smoothly; Gavin gets a text and then informs the room he’s staying until ten.

The first real difference is when Diego comes down to talk his way into a turn on MC’s Bullets. It has the potential to be terrifying, but despite Michael’s ingrained wariness, turns out the Narvaez brothers -or Diego at least- are much less ‘respect your elders’ than Michael’s own ever were. Hell, Gavin even manages a conversation with Diego that seems like it picks up from something earlier. Dinner last night, maybe? It’s something Michael couldn’t fathom happening with his brothers. Ezekiel and Joshua and Jeremiah hated everything he ever liked on principle alone, including Gav and Ryan. Talking to Gavin pleasantly back then was about as likely as trusting science’s view on the creation of Earth.

“I’m gonna take off soon,” Diego announces.

“Oh yeah?”

“Caroline.” It means nothing to Michael, but Ray makes a sort of grunting noise before shooting his pistol and taking out his target. “Dunno who’ll be home first. Dad, maybe?”

“Okay.”

“I’m not kicking you guys out, but if you’re staying, don’t let dummy here get pizza for dinner again.”

Before any of them can answer, Ray complains. “I didn’t even get it. I just ate it. Carlos got it.”

“Carlos isn’t a paramedic. Carlos doesn’t care if your heart is swimming in grease and fat before you’re twenty. Eat a friggin salad, little brother.” 

Diego lines up his last shot. He gets the wooden fence the bottles are on, not the brown bottle half hidden in between the yellow bottles. It’s a total fail, and makes Ray win the 99 Bottles minigame. He tosses the controller to Ryan and stands up.

“Seriously, no stupid pizza. There are chicken breasts in the fridge.”

Ray waits for Diego to make it up the stairs before he mutters, “there’s no goddamn way I’m eating grilled lean chicken for dinner. Fuck that noise.”

“So Ray’s slaughtering us all in the shooting game genre. Anyone else want a theme change?” Ryan asks.

“We could just watch another movie. They’ve got School of Rock too.” Michael loves the shit out of that movie. If anyone understands stick-it-to-da-man-neosis, it’s him.

“Screw it. Screw me.”

“What video game is that?” Gavin asks, face blank with his struggle to remember.

Ray laughs. “‘Screw me’ sounds like a video game title to you?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. It’s not like Big Mutha Truckers Two, Truck Me Harder and Unicorn Makeout Mania and Monkey Poo Finger are games you can play or anything. I forgot that every video game has a totally serious serial number name.”

Ray concedes to Gavin’s argument. “Okay, point. But no. I just want one of you to bang me.”

“Are you sure? You didn’t want that yesterday.”

Ryan frowns, copying the way Michael’s sure his own face looks. “You don’t have to-”

“I know. This isn’t peer pressure or some crap like that. Thanks to someone who will remain nameless I’ve figured out that anal is great.”

“If anyone would like to applaud Mr Anonymous, feel free,” Michael says. Unsurprisingly, Gavin and Ryan do not give credit where credit is due.

Ryan stretches out his legs and leans back until he’s half reclining, pillows doing all the work in keeping him upright. Ray barely waits for him to settle before he climbs on top of him, legs sandwiching Ryan’s.

Ryan and Ray look different together than Gavin and Ray. Where as Gav was all about changing it to what he wanted, Ryan’s matching him movement for movement. Ray’s left hand is on Ryan’s neck, his right on Ryan’s jaw, with his finger splayed so hints of stubble show through. Ryan though... Ryan’s got all his fingers curled up from the nape of Ray’s neck, fingers woven through Ray’s thick hair. They make out like they’re never letting go. It’s hot as fuck to see that kind of passion. Ryan’s just good at bringing it out in people.

“I put lube in the bathroom. I had a few guesses about today. Could one of you go get it?”

Michael goes. By the time he’s back -it takes a second to find the expiry date on a brand of condoms you haven’t used before- Ray’s got his boxers off, as does Ryan. Ray’s still straddled over Ryan’s lap, and even when Michael passes over the lube Ray doesn’t move. It wouldn’t be Michael’s choice of virginity losing position. But then, if he’s honest with himself, what he really likes when he’s getting fucked is to feel like he’s _getting fucked_ , not like he’s still doing the fucking. They’re two separate acts for a reason. To him at least. Ray doesn’t seem to be having any problem getting into it.

It makes sense that Ray’s doing this with Ryan. Not that Michael doesn’t trust himself to give someone a good first time. He’s a pretty good fuck. Gavin too, for that matter. But Ray already knows he’s got them. This is more to lock down Ryan’s sexual attraction. It’s almost a test Ray is giving. That plus it being his first time- he must feel spotlighted. Not everyone likes that feeling. So Michael hangs back a little, Gavin either realising the same or just following Michael’s lead. A first time can be pretty overwhelming and it seems unlikely that Ray getting three sets of hands all over him will make him feel _less_ the centre of attention. 

Then again, staring at Ray and Ryan like they’re a circus act is probably unnerving too. After one last look at Ryan’s fingers disappearing into Ray, Michael turns forwards and manhandles Gavin to him, a pinch of a nipple for emphasis. Gav goes easily; he’s a lightweight, and it’s not like there’s a reason for him to fight it. Once they’re close it can go one of two ways, and Michael choses to climb on top of Gav. Sort of a mirror of the lovebirds beside them -Team R?- except they’re on the shallow part of the couch, not the extension, so Gavin’s legs are bent underneath him, not straight out. 

If they were older and wiser it would be a side venture. Something to do more casually to make Ryan and Ray not feel like a spectacle while still totally being the centre of the room. But Michael’s not old and Gavin’s not wise, so it’s pretty much inevitable that touching each other to spread focus turns into actual interest. Michael’s got Gavin hemmed in by thighs and stomach and mouth, and he’s happy that Ryan and Ray are happy, but he’s got his own things to experience.

Still intent on playing with his chest, Michael grabs Gavin’s shirt hem. He pushes it up and over his chin, over his face, over his hair, until the fabric springs back and settles at his neck. Gavin twists a bit but it’s stuck, his arms half-trapped. “Michael, why?”

There’s no reason to answer. Instead he bites down a little on Gav’s pec. If Gavin can’t fight back Michael’s going to lay his claim. Nice Dynamite for the win. At least until XRay and Vav and Love-n-Stuff make their marks. Michael doesn’t need to be the only, just the most noticed.

Michael’s got a few hickies starting to form when Gavin bucks up, hard. Not expecting it, Michael goes flying like he’s on a mechanical bull. His ass hits the floor with a thud, loud enough to distract Ray and Ryan momentarily.

“Gavin! What the fuck?”

Gavin slithers off the seat to join him on the carpet. He crowds against Michael until his back is flush against the footrest. “More fun this way.”

Michael finds himself boxed in. Gavin is sitting on his thighs, and on the floor Michael’s not going to get the same leverage Gavin had sitting up to get his boi off him. Gav’s weight is centred on his right side, Michael’s left, like a bookend, so Michael can’t lean that way. To the right and his back it’s all couch. His arms have nowhere to go but crossed over his chest or straight up. Well, those or around Gavin, but Michael doesn’t really get the sense that Gav wants to be cuddling and loving right now.

Case in point- Gavin doesn’t give Michael a chance to choose what he wants. He just jams one of Michael’s hands under Ryan’s leg, and manipulates the other to cup his own neck. “Just returning the favour.”

Michael feels a whole lot more pinned than Gavin was, but he doesn’t want to argue. Arguing would mean having the right to move his hands, and he wants to keep them where they are. The muscles in Ryan’s thigh undulate each time he thrusts up into Ray. Michael can _feel_ the way Ray’s getting fucked. Gavin’s hand is over his, keeping Michael’s head in place as he bites wetly along his neck. There is no reason to move out of the position Gav’s placed him in. It would only ruin things. 

Michael can tell when Ray comes. Not because he’s twisted sideways to watch. That’s not what Gavin wants. Not because Ray’s a screamer, either. He’s actually just been continuously grunting. Michael knows because all of a sudden it’s not a leg crappily pinning his right hand, but his wrist being clamped by someone with jagged fingernails. Ryan doesn’t bite his nails, didn’t even before Gav declared it minging and gagged at Michael when he would. It has to be Ray who’s helping.

A second later and Gavin is passing his other wrist to Ray. He holds that one just as tightly, on the wrong side of grip pinching. Michael tugs his arm loose, or at least tries. The moment after he pulls his arm down, Ray firmly tugs it back up. Positioned where he is, Ray has better leverage. Michael can’t fight this.

Gavin presses his hand down over Michael’s zipper. Michael arches up into the pressure. Gavin smiles at him, teeth somehow still gleaming in the low basement light. “Yes, exactly right.”

The affirmation floods through Michael, buzzing his skin.

“Ray’s holding you there, I’m holding you here. That’s all we’re gonna do though. You want to get off you gotta work for it.”

Michael can do that. If that’s what Ray and Gavin want, that’s what he can do. 

Gavin keeps his hand steady where it is. Michael ruts against it. It takes a lot to keep his lower half inches off the carpet, like the world’s longest push up. But Gavin is watching intently, smiling like Michael’s doing the best thing in the world. In the face of that Michael can’t stop. And then he comes. It’s almost secondary to Ray leaning down and whispering ‘awesome’ before kissing him Mary Jane-Peter Parker style.

“That was great, my boi,” Gavin agrees.

“Hot,” Ryan says. 

Michael didn’t even realise Ryan was watching. Dumb, because where else would he be, but true. But since he was watching, since he did like it, Michael’s three for three in pleasing his boyfriends. He got off, and he did good. The joy hollows a hole through him. It cores him, making everything bubbly and sparkling and clear, like champagne.

The couch creaks behind him. Michael’s head is down, he mostly notices shadows of legs before Ray drops beside him on the floor. Michael doesn’t startle. There’s not a bone in his body that could startle, not when he’s empty like this.

Which, hey... Isn’t this the kind of thing Gavin wanted to know about? If he was being a good boyfriend he wouldn’t just be letting Ray settle an arm around his back as he clicks through the mini-game tent, and wondering where Ryan went. He’d be talking to Gavin.

“Hey man, you alright? Were you this quiet last orgasm? I didn’t notice but I think you weren’t?”

Michael ignores Ray and turns to Gavin. “I guess this would be a good time to say I feel different.”

“And? What do you want me to do?”

Some delicate slice of trust in this, crystalline thin, shatters. He _knew_ Gavin would reply like this. Stupid to think anything else. 

Michael bites back a dozen emotional replies. Nothing he could say or shout would make him feel better. He already _had_ the numb clarity, before Gavin ruined it. If shouting isn’t going to help, why bother? He ends up with, “I dunno. Fuck off, I guess.” He turns to Ray. “I’m fine. More video games?”

Ray shrugs. The movement is tentative, and his words match it. “Video games is the top of the list of what I have to offer. Fine’s good. What did you mean, diff-”

He cuts off as Michael stands up. “I’m going to go shovel the come out of my jeans. Get the game loaded while I’m gone.”

The door slams. He doesn’t mean to, but he doesn’t not mean to either. It just happens. The door lock presses in when he slaps at the knob a few times. The toilet paper doesn’t want to rip, when he pulls the roll twirls and twirls and won’t stop.

Michael spends a few frantic moments trying to wipe his underwear clean before he collapses onto the toilet. His hands aren’t shaking because he desperately needs the come out of his boxer briefs, he knows that. It’s just so fucking stupid of him to be upset. What did he expect? No, honestly. What. He’d known that Gavin would never want the hassle and maintenance of truth. He’d only agreed to get Gavin to stop. When in the last twenty eight hours did he lose his goddamn mind and decide Gavin was right? Gavin’s not self-aware enough to be right. It’s just so stupid. So so fucking stupid. Like telling his parents he’s gay and expecting them to still respect him. Stupid, and so hopeful it’s pathetic.

No more, though. He tried it Gavin’s way, and it failed. He’s not in chemistry class, this isn’t something he needs to test again and again.

In the end it’s easier to just take his underwear off than try to get them dry. He can just put them in a plastic bag and free ball it. Wouldn’t be the first time.

Ryan’s back in the basement when Michael rejoins the world. Gavin and Ray are both still sitting on the carpet, but Ray at least has his jeans pulled up now. The only other change he notices -he’s never been the best at Spot The Difference, even though Dad loved that shit in the Sunday paper- is a plate of cut up fruit with sugar already melting into syrup on top in the middle of the floor. 

“Eat a slice of mango,” Ryan suggests. “It’ll make you feel better.”

Michael bristles. Not only is he sick of people telling him how to feel, he can’t fuckin’ eat because he has to fuckin’ fast if he wants this hex out of his system. He throws himself onto the long part of the couch -it doesn’t quite smell like sex anymore, he must have been in the bathroom a while- and picks up what was once Ryan’s wiimote. He slips his index finger into the wrist strap and starts to whirl it around.

“Can’t. My fingers’ll get all sticky and it’ll fuck up the controller.”

“I’ve done worse,” Ray offers. 

“Everyone’s done worse than sticky fruit,” Gavin adds.

It’s easy to tell they had a talk. A capital t Talk, about the shit Ryan thinks Michael needs. The shit Ryan must have told Gavin to do, when they had their secret conversation that Gavin bragged about yesterday. It’s as good an explanation as any for why Gavin was insistent about feelings yesterday and is back to baseline not giving a crap now. Ryan forced it on him, filled Gav’s head with it while Michael was innocently unaware on the bus. It’s a better explanation than Gavin turning suddenly cruel. Gavin’s a shit but he’s not _mean_ , or at least he never has been in the past, and there’s been opportunity for it.

He could be pissed they talked about him behind his back, again, but he isn’t. He’s just kinda tired. He’s missed five meals, hasn’t eaten since beef tacos Friday night, and he’s just orgasmed. His body is allowed to be wrung out. Ray’s head is probably full of bullcrap about how he needs to be accommodating, but it won’t hurt short term, and Michael can explain what’s actually happening when he’s less tired before it turns into an actual problem. Everything will be fine. Gavin will only act weird when Ryan reminds him to, he’ll shake Ray out of it, and he’ll put up with it from Ryan.

Michael shakes his head. “And I’m a guest, so it’s not my shit to fuck up. Lets play. What is this?” He stares at the wide screen for a moment. It’s obviously MarioKart, and presumably still on the Wii because Ray hasn’t dragged out different controllers. “Dibs on Mario.” 

“I have a friend who calls her boobs Mario and Luigi.”

“You do fuckin’ not.”

“I do!”

They banter their way through a bunch of races. The guys more than him a bit, maybe, but Michael tries. He’s not in the best of moods. Even though he’s made Gavin’s switch in attitude make sense, it still pisses him off that he was moronic enough to fall for what was obviously a transitory attitude. He’d rather just be at home having a nap. But this is their first date as a foursome, and Michael’s not going to be the guy who fucks it up because he’s feeling like a bitch. So he shouts when they throw impediments at him, shouts when his fucking bike starts racing backwards, and shouts when he plummets off the rainbow road and into the black abyss of satan’s asshole.

Once they finish the Bowser’s Castle race -seventh of twelve, racing games are not Michael’s forte- and they’re back on main menu to argue about the next course, Michael kicks out lightly. The fleece blanket Ryan threw over him sticks to the sleeve of Ray’s bright purple zip up hoodie even after he drops his foot back down. “What are you so fuckin’ chipper about?”

Ryan snorts. “He’s kicking all of our asses.”

“His natural state is winning, why would he be surprised enough to smile at it?”

“I’ve had sex three times today. And none of them were with myself. Life is awesome.” Ray sings the last word, poorly, Jean Ralphio style. Michael can get behind that. Terrible singing is a habit of his too.

Ryan frowns. “You realise that’s not all this is, right?”

“Shu-up,” Gavin demands, accent heavy. “He likes us.”

“XRay and Vav!” Ray declares, fist stretched out to demand a bump. Gavin complies immediately. “Seriously though, I’ve liked them for a while. But it’s weird to go up and say ‘we’re all into dick can we be friends?’, so I didn’t.”

“Why? That’s what the GSA is all about,” Michael points out. He should know, they’ve tried to recruit him more than once. In between little pet projects, like his suspension will probably be, it’s usually all about people bonding over liking the same genitals.

“Yeah, and are you _in_ the GSA?”

“Okay, no.”

Ray continues to explain. “So if they’re cool, and then it turns out their best friend who graduated is actually their boyfriend, he’s probably cool too.”

“So it was sex by association,” Ryan attempts to clarify.

“I really like, the skillful way, you beat the other cars, to the finish line yay.”

Ryan laughs hard, then explains. Figures Ray would capture the heart of a theatre student by quoting altered Rocky Horror lyrics at him. A plus plus for Ray, Michael thinks. 

The doorbell ringing cuts into the Mushroom Gorge race. Michael’s surprised when Ray immediately pauses the game. Back when it was just Michael and his brothers home alone on the rare occasion when Mom was off doing something, they never bothered to answer the door. The neighbours were their parents’ friends, no one they needed to know, and what did a thirteen year old want with a lawn care specialist just happening to drive by with advice and coupons? But the game is paused, and Ray is standing and patting his ass like he’s trying to figure out if the excess lube has stained through.

“Come on, everyone up.”

“Seriously?”

“If that’s my mom she’s going to want to meet the guys I have over. And if it’s one of my brothers, proof that the basement wasn’t just bang central is necessary so they don’t assume shit and try to blackmail me about not telling Mom and Dad. Make sure your pants are zipped.” 

“‘Random guys you have over’. You’re not out,” Gavin states. 

They’ve gone through this before, Gavin and Ryan. Dating a closeted guy is rough. Dating a guy who’s life is falling apart thanks to honesty is harder. Michael wouldn’t be surprised if this was a deal breaker. He’s not sure either of them could do it again. Not to mention he’s not sure if he could handle being on the other side of it. Thank fuck for Ray’s next words.

“No. I’m hella out. I just don’t need my mom knowing I’m getting laid. I can’t see that ending well.”

Michael sighs heavily before standing up and letting gravity pull the blanket off his shoulders. His skin immediately goosebumps. He’s cold as hell, has been since the sex. But better cold than to meet Ray’s family member looking like a goddamn hobo. And he does double check that his jeans are entirely secure. Since he’s not wearing underwear any longer, his slip would cause the biggest problem.

The person behind the door is not Ray’s mom. Or dad. Or siblings, grandparents, or pets, for that matter. It’s two white guys, one moustached, one bearded. The moustached one looks pretty fucking familiar. The second Ray gets the door all the way open, they both barge in. After that bold first move about twenty reactions happen all at once, from Ryan staring at the man with the beard to Ray pointing out that he didn’t actually invite anyone in, to Beardo nervously starting to swing his plastic bag, to Michael’s deja vu and looming dread. Quite a fucking feat for a stairwell with six people in it. 

By far the most attention hogging is Gavin. It’s not like Michael’s self-sacrificial or anything, putting others before himself. It’s just Gavin’s reaction is the biggest. It’s impossible not to notice.

Gavin looks extraordinarily bewildered, at first. Then his face falls, confusion turning to devastation as he clutches his pendant. Michael’s pretty sure it’s an unconscious movement; usually Gavin only acknowledges it when it’s benignly choking him. “Did you counter my talisman? Did you- Is the contract- What did I do?”

The stammered words have Ryan stiffening, so Michael has to guess that a master denouncing their journeyman is a big fucking deal. Ray looks just as clueless as he is, which is to say they don’t know the laws of magicians, but it’s easy to guess something heartwrenching is happening here.

Within seconds Moustache has Gavin held in his arms. “Nothing. I would never. You didn’t do anything. You _couldn’t_ do anything. I’m not here to drive you home so the pendant didn’t trigger.”

While they continue to hug it out -Gavin clinging, Moustache cradling, both of them close to tears and neither Beardo or Ryan surprised by this emotional outburst- Michael has his own little melt down. Deja vu confirmed. There’s no question about it. It’s basic logic. Even though his name hasn’t been said, the man murmuring platitudes is obviously Geoff. The man is also the intensely hot man Michael kissed when he was having his post-letter tantrum in his apartment lobby. Therefore, Michael made out with Gavin’s master. Gavin is going to murder him.

Ray clears his throat. He starts with “I’m not a magophobe.”

“Wouldn’t be dating young Gavvers if you were,” Geoff agrees.

“Yeah. But someone want to explain why there’s at least one master magician in my house-”

“Two,” Beardo butts in.

“Yeah, kinda figured. So why there’s two, uninvited, startling enough that Vav freakin’ cries? Oh, and names would maybe help too.”

“Geoff Ramsey.”

“Jack Pattillo. Master six years.”

Ray makes a ‘move it along’ hand gesture. “And the reason for upsetting party crashing?”

“Burnie- he’s a friend of mine. Ours. He has a thing about environmentally friendly cars. Using a fuckton of probably illegal-”

“Anti-TOS,” Gavin tosses in. Ryan smirks at the use of his term.

“-charms,” Geoff continues, “he made my car run on hot water. Specifically hot. The tank’s dry, and you can’t get a hot jug of water at a grocery store. When I did a spell to find the closest useful ally, this is where we ended up.” 

“How much water are we talking?” Ryan asks, curiosity about magic never dampened, despite Gavin never encouraging it.

Geoff ignores Ryan, looking at Ray instead. “Do you have a black garbage bag?”

“Yeah. Probably?” Ray corrects himself hastily. “I mean I haven’t checked recently, but we use them.”

“Can I come the rest of the way in?”

“Sure, what the fuck.”

For obvious reasons, Michael’s never seen two magicians work together. Not in real life, at least. And since prime time magic dramas are probably about as realistic as prime time crime science procedurals, he can’t really count them. So far what he’s witnessing is a lot less instantaneous than anything NBC’s ever shown. Gavin and Geoff aren’t actually _doing_ anything magical yet. The closest they’ve come to the mad scramble of charming something under the gun is Gavin holding the folded square of black plastic Ray pulled out of the kitchen pantry and passed him. 

The same way that Gavin’s magician pants have dozens of little pockets for herb bags, Geoff opens a briefcase on the kitchen counter. The inner lining is the most complicated set up he’s seen, and Michael used to pride himself on buying backpacks with the highest amounts of specific task pockets for the new school year. The briefcase is just as well stocked as Michael knows Gavin’s jeans are. Michael couldn’t name a single ingredient in it, but Ryan probably could. 

Once it’s open and on the counter, Gavin and Geoff both crowd in. It’s probably not on purpose that everyone else is summarily ignored. The stock at hand is on the counter, the four of them are in the middle of the kitchen, of course Gavin and Geoff’s backs are to them. Michael gets it. He even gets why the consultation is in a low voice. If this charm is something Jack doesn’t already know, maybe Geoff doesn’t want to share. Magicians can get pretty goddamn proprietary.

What does make Michael’s gaze narrow is Geoff’s arm slung low on Gavin’s back. There’s a difference between him and Ryan knowing that Gavin is with Geoff and seeing it for the first time. The logic tree of journeyman and master having a fated relationship branching to them naturally falling into bed makes sense. Michael’s known that since the first week of dating Gavin. If he’s begrudged it at all it’s because he doesn’t know if Geoff is worthy of Gavin. 

But the fact of the matter is Gavin didn’t stiffen up when Geoff did it, and he’s not trying to edge away from it after the polite five second allowance given to huggy relatives. Gavin’s... comfortable in Geoff’s arms. Michael can’t say if this is Geoff continuing to repair the damage the moments of doubt at the doorway did to their master-journeyman relationship, or if it’s the man’s normal behaviour. Whatever it is, Gavin likes it. Gavin clearly likes Geoff’s affection as much as Ryan likes getting off with some man or woman he’s forgotten the name of by sunrise. Michael has to respect that.

They break apart when Geoff grabs a packet of something from the briefcase. They’re facing each other now, and Gavin’s hands are flat out like he’s serving a platter to a table. Michael’s not sure if they mean this as a show or not, but there’s no question about whether he and Ryan are watching this part of Gav. A quick glance over says Ray is too. No doubt magic in general is just as interesting as the release of information they never thought they’d get.

Geoff sprinkles the grains lightly onto the black plastic with delicate tattooed fingers. As he’s tucking the packet back into its proper compartment, Gavin starts rubbing the bag against itself, palm to palm. Gavin unfolds it next, and mutters something under Geoff’s watchful attention. The plastic stiffens from a thirty by thirty two inch rectangle into a smaller but more voluminous rectangle, like a laundry hamper. It’s strong enough that Gavin can put it on the linoleum when he’s done.

Ray crosses his arms. “Isn’t that like five times the size of a gas cannister?”

“As someone who drives and actually has a jerrycan in the trunk, yes,” Ryan answers Ray. Michael’s surprised he’s actually looking at the guy. Mostly Ryan’s been looking at Jack. Glancing over, then quickly away when it seems like Jack’s about to turn his head.

“The more water there is, the better it holds the heat. I could parboil a lake, but it wouldn’t make a thimble lukewarm.”

Ryan’s probably got questions about the science of that. Michael’s got his own about why they wouldn’t just use a better charm. But Geoff’s already explained more about the situation than Gavin would have, and they’re both too used to Gavin’s ways to push it.

“So while we’re waiting for that to finish,” that being Gavin waiting for the gushing tap to fill a pitcher with water and dumping it into the hardened trash bag “anyone want apology chips?”

Michael gets the feeling Jack is trying to put a stop to the slightly awkward way the four of them are watching master and journeyman like they’re on stage. He’s even down for the change in focus. He just doesn’t know what the fuck Jack is talking about. “What?”

“We were grocery shopping-”

“You tried to get me home for grocery shopping? You knob.” Gavin grumbles, still almost entirely focused on his task.

Michael makes a face. He’s tried that too. There’s a reason he shops with Ryan or by himself. Never with Gavin. Ever.

Jack sees Michael’s reaction and nods. “Geoff’s not any better. Loves to cook, would live off saltines and every candy in the checkout lane if he shopped alone. When we ran dry I knew we’d be crashing someone’s good time, so I grabbed an apology snack.”

“What flavour?” Gavin asks, suddenly interested in the goings on around him.

“What do you think?” Geoff answers, his tone the vocal equivalent of rolled eyes. Michael can see some domestic familiarity there, that Jack and Geoff know what snacks to get him, even when he’s not with them. He doesn’t hate it. It’s good, probably, that Gav has multiple people that can do that for him.

“Sweet! Dibs!”

“You can’t dibs an entire bag, asshole.” Ryan declares as he pops the top of the green bag.

“Jack, put a handful in my gob!” Gavin demands.

Jack actually does it. He doesn’t tell Gavin to put down the pitcher for a second and do it himself, he gets in and puts a few larger chips in Gavin’s open mouth. Michael’s not sure if that makes Jack a better man or a weaker man than he is. Gavin garbles a thank you though, so at least the bearded man has that.

Once the bag makes the rounds through the kitchen, Jack comes to him. “Want some chips?”

“Nah.”

Jack thrusts the bag closer to his face. “Eat some chips.”

He probably doesn’t mean anything sinister by it, but for a second all Michael sees is his brothers daring him to eat things and the retribution that would swiftly follow if he bitched out. In the haze of vocal flashback, Michael jams his hand into the cellophane. Michael crunches the handful of sour cream and onion, then groans inwardly. He can’t purge his system if he’s fuckin’ eating. Stupid stupid stupid.

Michael kisses Gavin first. It could be a way of restaking a claim, considering the way Gav’s been acting with Geoff since scene on the front landing. Except it’s not. Michael’s mostly still pissed at Gavin for not even briefly allowing the delusion that post-sex feelings sharing is an okay thing to do. Pissed and tired. That’s not a combination that leads to making out. Besides, when he pulls away Michael doesn’t smugly look at Geoff. He kisses Ryan next. Then Ray. 

Then his lips are on Geoff’s. 

It’s no less hot than the first time. Geoff’s just ridiculously good looking. On a completely shallow level, Michael gets why Gavin’s been banging him for years. Hard to say if it’s a better or worse idea now though. Last time he kissed a stranger in a moderate to low rent apartment block lobby. This time he’s kissing someone’s master, right in front of them.

He has to stand on his tiptoes to reach Jack’s mouth. It would be embarrassing if everyone else about this situation didn’t supremely outrank a bit of height difference. The height difference isn’t the only thing that makes him unique, there’s the beard to consider too. The coarseness of it feels good on Michael’s face. Even on the bruised half. He can’t claim it doesn’t. Jack might not be skinny, but tall, facial hair, and tattoos are all bulletpoints on Michael’s Would Jerk Off To list. The fact that Michael would kiss him willingly makes it even more infuriating that it’s not a choice.

And then it’s over, thank god. Michael didn’t want this, not ever again, not even when half the room are guys he’s dating and the other half are lookers. But if there’s one good thing to say it’s that there’s only five of them, not the cafeteria’s hundreds. It’s over.

Except of course it’s not.

“You fucking arsehole! You did it again! Earlier we had kinky sex and now you’re kissing the first people you see. And master magicians at it!”

“You fucked earlier up, not me. And that’s not what happened.” 

Michael’s lost his goddamn mind. He has the perfect excuse. Gavin unwittingly provided him the easiest out. Ryan might even believe it, and he knows the truth. But he can’t use it. Michael just can’t let it be thought that each time they have better sex he’s going to do something stupid. Never mind how many times until he scares them off the good stuff. It’s more like how many perceived times until Gavin’s done with it all. 

“Then what the bollocks is your excuse this time?” Gavin demands.

“How about you go fuck yourself,” is Michael’s answer. Gavin’s mad? Fuckin’ _Gavin_ gets to be the mad one? What complete fucking bullshit. Gavin’s not the one forced to violate himself and others. Gavin’s not the one that fucked up his starvation after five missed meals and now has to start all over again. Gavin’s not the one that has to throw out all his food because it’s hexed to shit.

Wait. Wait a fuckin’ second. Gavin isn’t that guy now, but he might be by tomorrow. Jack and Geoff clearly brought hexed chips. Michael’s not sure what that means. Did some random person raid the shut down store and start selling the stolen food at a discount? Is there a second location that didn’t get shut down that’s equally as corrupt? Did the magician randomly hex some shelves at other grocery stores? Is the bag actually one that Gavin bought while bored enough to wander out of Sweet Pulp, only to get distracted from eating it and end up forgetting it in the back seat?

The only thing Michael’s sure of is that Geoff and Jack aren’t wild magic kinksters buying known anonymously charmed goods. How could they be? Who’s ever heard of magicians fetishizing their own skill set?

“Where did you buy these chips?”

“What? Shut up, who cares, answer Gavin. What the hell was that?” Ray answers. It’s the second time he’s sided with him in the past minute, having said something about ‘dude not cool’ when Michael cussed Gavin out.

“Where did you buy the chips!” Michael insists with a shout. There’s only one answer that Jack can give, only one that makes sense, but he needs to hear it.

“Walmart.”

“What! Fuckin’ what!” Michael knows he’s screaming. At least half the room looks freaked out by his fury. He can’t stop it though, can’t regulate himself. He was already at a low threshold, and now he has to figure out if one of the biggest retailers in North America somehow let some asswipe hex their goods, or if he’s been wrong this whole time about why he’s making out with people against his will. It’s too fucking much.

Geoff raises his eyebrows. “I dunno if you’re anti big company, but their meat is cheap but good, and we go through a lot.”

“Fuck the mingin’ groceries. We talked about this yesterday! Fucking _say_ you’re jealous of Geoff comforting me. Me or Rye will bungin’ hug you straight away. Kissing my master is the wrong damn way!”

“Gavin! Shut up!” Can you shout a growl? Michael’s pretty sure he is. If he had one more percentage of animal DNA he’d be clawing the stupid Brit’s fucking face off right now.

“Why’d you ask about the store?” is Jack’s first contribution.

“What? Nothing.”

“No. Why?”

“Nobody cares about the goddamn groceries, Jack!” Gavin yells. “Michael, I am about one goddamn word from walking-”

“Michael cares about the groceries,” Geoff cuts him off. “I dunno what the dicks Jack is getting at, but you should think about why Jack cares that Michael cares.”

Gavin snorts. “Yeah, that’s nice. How about you two save the teachable moments for when we’re doing magic, and fuck off when it comes to boyfriends? That would be fuckin’ top.”

“Numbnuts, listen to your fuckin’ elders. I’m telling you-”

“Shut _up_ Geoff. Just because-”

“Gav!” Ryan shouts. “Ignore Geoff. Ignore Jack. Do-”

“Why ignore me?” Jack protests. “I didn’t even do anything!”

“Ignore them, and listen to one of your actual boyfriends. Okay?”

“What?” Gavin’s arms are crossed tightly over his chest. There’s probably a spackling of hickeys darkening under the t-shirt. Michael wonders bleakly if earlier was the last time he’ll ever get to do that.

“You know Michael. Better than anyone in the room. Do you really think he’d just do something like this for shits and giggles?”

“He’s an arsehole. He’s always been an arsehole.”

Ryan quirks his head in acknowledgement. “Yeah, granted. And it fits, because we are too. But come on. Think, man. Team Love-n-Stuff has kept their secrets, right? Stuff we do that we don’t let him see. Has he ever followed you trying to get to Geoff? Because he’s never stalked me to meet my one night stands.”

Gavin sighs. His posture is a bit looser now. All that really means is he’s less full of rage, more frustrated and sad. It’s not exactly better, from Michael’s perspective. It’s still a posture to break up with someone in.

“So he didn’t do it vindictively to fuck with me and Geoff. He still did it instead of like fifty other things he coulda’, and we already talked about this! I already warned you!” Gavin finishes by twisting back towards him. 

Michael takes the shout as his due. It’s easy to get pissed back when Gavin’s pissed at him, but it always deflates quickly. Gavin has a way of walking away from people. Ultimatums mean things with Gav the way they never did with his parents- at least until the one time they did. If Michael doesn’t want this relationship to implode tonight he’s gotta be better than just anger.

“Dude, I know. But think of the circumstances. Gav, seriously. Michael’s vindictive, but he’s never tried to be this shitty.”

“The internet said subdrop can make you erratic,” Gavin counters.

“This erratic?”

“What do you mean subdrop?” Michael demands. What the hell is this now?

“Oh, that’s the guy?” Geoff mutters.

Whatever it is, Gavin’s been talking to Geoff about it. Fantastic. “The fucking fuck is subdrop?”

Ray chimes in, “You know in Fifty Shades of Grey two, when Ana is so depressed that her dom isn’t around anymore that she’d rather be with him and put up with his shit than not be dommed? That.”

Oh, fuck that. So many layers of fuck that ice cream with fuck that cherries on top. “Gavin! I _told_ you already, I didn’t kiss Jack because I was sad you didn’t buy me a pony and brush my hair, but too scared to say I wanted it. Christ.”

Ryan scowls at him. “Being an asshole doesn’t help.”

“So what’s the excuse? The explanation?” Gavin’s less furious now, but the question is the same. And this time Michael has to answer him. It’s too much of a risk not to. Gavin’s on the brink. He has to say something. It’s just does he lie, or does he not?

It hits Michael then, like an unscheduled train. This might be the best case scenario. This might be the equivalent of the one grassy curb while kidnapped in the passenger seat of a madman’s car. As much as it’s terrible, this has gone down in front of Gavin’s master and his best friend who’s possibly a co-teacher. Michael knows from Ryan that that sort of thing isn’t official, but it happens more often than not. Masters make skilled friends, masters get journeymen. If there’s anyone responsible for making sure that Gavin doesn’t start a war with the shady store owners it’s Geoff and Jack. They can stop what Michael’s been afraid of. If he’s ever going to bail from the insanity and the lies, it’s now, before the situation revs up and opening the door would shatter his ribcage.

“I’m hexed. I thought it was a few different things over the last five days, but now I know for sure. I kiss people who eat what I eat. I thought it had to be stuff from the same store, because the magicops shut down the store I last bought groceries from. But that wasn’t Walmart. You went to Walmart and I ate your chips, and I still kissed everyone. So I guess it’s a less specific hex.”

“So the cafeteria...?” Ray trails off. Michael doesn’t even want to look at him. He thought Michael was this badass queer rights activist, and now he knows that’s all bullshit. He’s gotta be pissed.

“Everyone I kissed ate a sandwich. It didn’t mean what I thought it meant. It wasn’t just bread.”

Gavin Michael can look at. A good thing too, because he sees the moment Gav switches from anger and despair about being stuck in the same rut once again to annoyance that his boi is stupid. Michael can handle annoyance. Especially because it doesn’t last long on Gavin. It’s not a caveman feeling.

“Why didn’t you tell me all that before? Like first day? It was the jock A-hole, right?”

Michael isn’t quite sure what to say. Luckily Ryan, Geoff, and Jack are there for him. 

“Are you stupid?”

“Come on.”

“Really Gavin? Think about what you would have done.”

“It wouldn’t be anything they didn’t deserve!” Gavin protests. Michael can practically see his gears turning with different modes of revenge. Geoff might have his hands full the next few days. Maybe he’ll just fuck him into exhaustion. Funny how the idea seems so much less controversial in his own brain now that he’s met Geoff. The guy’s just too blunt and rude to be the kind of shady that’s kept Michael with low-grade worry for his boi. 

“Yeah, I’m not saying I don’t want to hit them in the face with a baseball bat. Because that would be nice. But the kind of guy that hexes a week worth of customers for shits and giggles is the kind of guy that will hex back if you attack.” Michael elbows Gavin in the side, and he doesn’t flinch away, like he probably would have five minutes ago. “I’d rather you didn’t get gangrene of the dick.”

“Everyone in the room would hate that,” Gavin quips back.

That basically answers that question. Gavin _has_ done stuff with Jack. Well, whatever. It’s probably less casual than Ryan’s frequent one night stands, but if a handful of deep relationships is what Gavin needs than why not?

“So he’s hexed, and there’s three magicians in the room,” Ryan starts. “Someone wanna....”

“I’ll fix it,” Jack says. “Just gimme a few hours to figure out some loopholes.”

Gavin nods, face full of confidence that Michael’s problem will soon be over. “Trust him. He’s top.”

Michael has a middling amount of faith. Jack’s probably pretty good, probably knows what he’s doing. If he includes the amount of years he’s been a master in every introduction he makes he’s either over-compensating, or proud enough of his skills to keep them strong. Michael would like to think the second.

“Everyone fuck off for a second. Me and him need to talk.”

Michael swivels on the white linoleum to look at Ray. He doesn’t look actively pissed, which means Michael can default to snark. “You sure you don’t just want to do this in front of everyone, just like everyone else?”

It’s telling that Jack looks guilty, on the verge of apologising, but Geoff scowls. “You making out with everyone is everyone’s business, asshole.”

Case in point. There’s no way Geoff manipulated Gavin into liking him too much, Geoff’s as direct Michael knows he is himself. Granted, that’s what Gav’s attracted to. But that just means the grand holy hella-masters did a good job with fate, not anything sinister like he once worried.

“No, I’m good. Basement?” Ray suggests.

For the third time today Michael finds himself clattering down the lower staircase. Ray tosses himself onto the sectional and Michael sits too, because it would be weird if he didn’t. He drags his feet back and forth across the carpet and waits for Ray to say what he has to say. It probably won’t be good, but Michael can deal. Will deal. This is hardly the first time he’s disappointed someone because their perception of him has crumbled apart. He’s survived it before.

“So I basically have to ask one thing.”

Asking one thing means he only cares about one thing, which means an ultimatum is probably on the horizon. Michael really doesn’t want to do this. And why is Ray’s basement so cold? If he ever gets to come over again -if everything doesn’t fall apart- he’s bringing a hoodie. “Do I know pi to ten digits? No. I know three point one four one five, but that’s it.”

Ray rolls his eyes. “I get that it wasn’t an activist move, that you never would have done it if not for the hex. I’m good with that. It wasn’t much of a meet cute for the grandkids anyway. But thing is, Gavin likes me. We’ve got a team name. And I’m pretty sure me and Ryan are good.”

“You quoted Rocky Horror at a theatre major. You’re good,” Michael interrupts. Just because his own chance with Ray might be fucked thanks to false pretences doesn’t mean he’s going to drag down the others with him. Even if it will suck if they’re both dating someone he can’t.

“Good enough to brainstorm names?”

Michael hums an _I don’t know_ at him without opening his lips. He and Ryan being Team Crazymad was a build up of circumstances, and he and Gav being Team Nice Dynamite was a specific event. He’s never just declared a name, how the hell is he supposed to know if Ray and Ryan are there yet?

“Maybe Team Railway. Or maybe we’ll go Brangelina style and do Hayvaez Jr.. I dunno. Anyway, the thing is, do you even like me? Or was a fake date and a later breakup easier than letting Gavin lose his magical mind? Because I thought things were mostly cool earlier, but then I also thought you kissed me willingly, so what the fuck do I know.”

Michael practically shudders in relief. This is something he can answer. Completely, and fully, and he doesn’t have to lie or evade or fuck-all. For basically the first time this week he can say words that people actually want to hear. It’s instant weight off his shoulders.

“I’m not going to say I would have ever noticed you. Maybe your hipster shirt, but not you-”

Ray protests, “it’s not hipster. I got it at Threadless.”

“That’s like saying this microbrew isn’t hipster, or this converted warehouse walkup in Williamsburg isn’t hipster. Anyway, yeah, maybe not. But Gavin asked me before he did anything at Sweet Pulp, and he would have got it if I said no. There was no reason to let it happen except I had this feeling I’d like you.”

“And you do.”

“Shit yeah I do. I ate out your ass, remember?”

Ray makes a face at him. “You did do that. So, that’s it. All I wanted. We good?”

Michael clutches both of his hands to his heart and flutters his eyelashes. “I think this conversation has made us better friends.”

The looseness of the elastic in his socks means they’re halfway down the arches of his feet when Michael stands up. He balances on one leg so he can tug the fabric back to his ankle, then switches sides. Ray has no reason to wait with him, but he does. What a gentleman.

There’s something immediately different when they rejoin the others in the kitchen. Michael guesses Jack is taking a piss or something, because who the fuck would be desperate enough to go in a Walmart, but he’s not the only one gone. “Where’d Ryan go?”

Gavin shrugs. “Said he wanted to talk to Jack. I guess they’re hiding out in one of the rooms down the hall, since the basement was taken.”

Michael knew it. He fucking _knew_ something was up with them. But since Gavin has utterly failed at deploying stealth mode eavesdropping he still won’t know what. Or maybe Geoff wouldn’t let Gav try. It can’t be that the house is too charmed against it. Gavin found a loophole charm for the well guarded guidance counsellor’s office, there’s no way he couldn’t manage a random residential house.

On the other hand, so what? If it’s that big a deal, Ryan will tell them later. If Jack can’t be trusted as a co-teacher because he sold Ryan a dark hex Ryan will warn Gavin. If Jack sold him crappy work Ryan will tell Michael. Most likely though Ryan just wants to ask a few questions about magic that Jack might answer, unlike Gavin. Ryan’s got more curiosity for that kind of stuff than Michael does.

While the pair are out of the room discussing whatever, Michael has his own shit he has to talk about. He doesn’t exactly _want_ to, but there’s no way it won’t come up between Geoff and Gavin. At least if he does this now he can defend himself or whatever.

Michael crosses his arms and angles towards Geoff. Maybe he doesn’t entirely look at him, because Geoff is sexy from curled moustache to tattoo sleeves to jeans torn at the knee and Michael needs to not be distracted. But he’s facing him, and that has to count for conversational etiquette, right? “You were in my building.”

“Morrison has more than one apartment, numbnuts. It’s my building too.”

Well, that tells Michael two things. One, Geoff doesn’t save the attitude for only his loved ones. Michael’s virtually a stranger and Geoff’s calling him things his brothers would blush saying. Two, Gavin’s been acting shady. For a long ass time, actually. It could be impressive if it didn’t make Michael want to kick him in the ass.

“Gavin!”

“I’d like to point out that I never actually lied!” Gavin cries out. His tone’s high-pitched. That means he’s fully fucking aware he’s in the wrong, regardless of the words coming out of his mouth. Or at least he’s aware that people are pissed at him for doing something wrong. Gavin’s got a little kid’s sense of right and wrong. Part of the reason Michael didn’t want him to know about the hex.

“Whenever Ryan offers you a ride home from my place you say your place is within walking distance,” Michael replies, teeth gritted.

“Down two flights is walking distance, innit?”

Michael can’t help himself. He punches Gavin in the shoulder hard enough for him to go down. 

“Michael! Why?” Gavin wails from his sprawled position on the floor. His cheek is about an inch from the trash bag of water, but he doesn’t seem to care.

“You know why. Idiot.” Geoff answers for Michael, staring down directly at him. A brief blossom of warmth bloom in Michael’s chest. It’s rare that someone sticks up for him. It’s nice.

“How do you know that, anyway? That Geoff, I mean us, live where you live?”

Ray chuckles. “Wouldn’t the question be how did it take him so long to figure out? Like I’m guessing you’ve lived there since you got journeyman’ed into Texas? And Michael’s probably lived there since he emancipated, right? So shouldn’t you have met over collecting flyers like months ago? Apartments still get flyers, right?”

“He gets up way early and doesn’t go home after school. We’re never coming or goin’ at the same time. Which is why I don’t get how-”

“Because this isn’t the first time we kissed.”

Gavin gets about half a peal of laughter out before it cuts off. Even if he was deaf Michael’d be able to tell the moment the truth clicks in Gav’ brain. His expression just collapses. It’s fuckin’ terrible. Geoff is kinda shrugging, making a face at Michael that clearly states _you chose this_. Which is bullshit, because there’s no way it wouldn’t have come up. Ray’s the one to offer Gavin a hand to boost him off the floor with. Gavin takes it, but shies away from all of them once he’s standing.

“You really-” Gavin cuts off like he doesn’t want to know. 

Michael’s not sure what to do. Does he confirm it, and cement the expression on his boi’s face? He can’t take it back, that’s for sure. For reasons beyond his control today’s been defined as Truth Day, and Michael isn’t about to fuck everything up more attempting to backpedal.

“It was just the once,” Geoff tries.

“Before this time!” Gavin shouts. Michael winces. He’s got a point.

“Okay, but to be fair to me, I didn’t even know he was Geoff. I didn’t do it to fuck with you.” Because, fuck, that’s how Ryan just got Gavin to not dump him, pointing out that he’s never been a true douchebag about the journeyman/master relationship, despite not particularly trusting it. If Gavin thinks that he kissed Geoff for some shady reason Michael might be fucked.

“Was that the first time you showed symptoms?”

The sudden strange voice makes Michael startle for a second. Then he places it as Jack, which means Ryan’s back too. Either their conversation ended naturally, or Gavin’s yelling was loud enough to attract attention. Either way, Michael has to suck it up and face him. Ryan’s part of this too.

Ryan’s not the most expressive person in the world, but Michael’s known him a while, knows how to read him. Ryan doesn’t look upset to find out the guy Michael told him about earlier in the week is actually Gavin’s Geoff. Thank Christ. At least there’s one boyfriend Michael’s choices haven’t devastated today.

It’s only after the question of Ryan is settled that he can think about what Jack’s asking. Michael frowns. “I mean, I guess? Probably. I did it when I’d just gotten a letter about how not to be gay, and it made sense at the time, but I guess it might have just been...”

“See, Gavvers? It wasn’t even a thing. It was the hex.”

“Right. Yeah, okay.” 

The words might be a positive. Someone might even buy the fake smile rolling out over Gavin’s face, as fucking pasted on as that is. But what Michael can’t help but see is the way Gavin’s fingers are clenched around the thin pendant just under his collar. If there’s anything more symbolic, Michael can’t name it. 

He also can’t say anything comforting. Gavin doesn’t want to hear it, not if he’s pretending to be fine. He sure as fuck doesn’t want to hear it from Michael, considering he’s the one that brought this drama down on all their heads.

Unfortunately no one else has anything to say either. Geoff seems like a hands on kind of guy, he probably wants to get Gavin home and into his bed to show him how much their relationship hasn’t changed with this new information. Jack no doubt doesn’t want to get involved in a drama between his friend and the friend’s journeyman. Ray’s only known Gavin for a day, solving the biggest emotional crisis Gav’s had since landing in America isn’t a first date task. Ryan, probably the only one of them with a real ability to nurture, might also complicit in Gavin’s eyes, since he told Gavin about the kiss Tuesday without saying that it was Geoff. 

What all those good reasons add up to is a rapidly mounting awkward silence. It stretches until Jack breaks it. The first few words come out booming, like a clap of thunder. 

“Well! It was great to meet the people important to Gavin, finally. But if I’m going to be figuring this out tonight I need to start charting now.”

“Kay, we’re going,” Geoff announces, like they didn’t literally just hear Jack say the same. His voice doesn’t change from the decisive tone he’s had the whole time, but he looks a lot less certain than before. “Gav, you coming?”

Gavin’s silent for a moment. Long enough for Michael to worry that his mistake has completely fucked up everything. Wouldn’t it just figure if one accidental failure on his part led to the destruction of a relationship fated as perfect by the Enlightened Guild of Extreme-Masters? Ruining people’s shit left and right, it’s just who he fucking is. Fuck.

Gavin drops his hand from his throat and shrugs. “Better than bussing.”

“Damn right it is,” Geoff replies.

“But just-” Gavin flits over to Ray and cups his ass while they stand nose to nose. “I had a top time this weekend, even if the end went crazy. Thanks for the date.”

“Yolo, right?”

They kiss and Michael can’t help the stab of jealousy. If he tried to kiss any of his boyfriends right now they’d wonder why he was doing it.

“Michael, you want a ride?”

“Uh, what?”

Geoff rolls his eyes like he’s a moron. “We’re obviously going to the same place. Do you want a ride?”

It has the potential to be really awkward, true. On the other hand, Michael is about a hundred and fifty percent done with today. The less travel time the sooner it is that he can shut off for the night. Officially too cold and fatigued to be wary, he nods.

Ray juts his head at Ryan. “You gonna go too?”

“No Ryebread. Stay here. Make some connections,” Gavin suggests.

“Dude, that’s it! R and R Connection! That’s the team name!”

Ryan nods his head contemplatively. “I think I like it. I think it works.”

It takes Geoff and Gavin both to get the trash bag of water down the half-flight of stairs. Michael goes down first, jams his feet into his shoes, and stands out of the way two steps down the lower staircase. It’s Ray who thinks to stand on the front step with his screen door pulled open, spring strained. Jack and Geoff never took their shoes off, so Geoff walks backwards out the door, giving Gavin a few extra seconds to get his Converse on. The backs are wrinkled under his heels, and Michael’s surprised Gavin isn’t complaining. He’s got a thing about shoes.

It’s a few block walk to the temporarily abandoned car. The sun is down, it’s dark besides the halos of artificial light around every lamp post. Half of which have been yarn bombed, because Austin is a weird-ass place. Michael’s not sure if it would be warmer if it was still sunny. Probably not. He’s more bone cold than skin cold. Sunshine doesn’t cure bone-chill. Still, the second they get to a car in the middle of the street and Jack clicks the door unlock button on his keychain, Michael dives into the back seat. If there’s any possible warmth to gain from being out of the fresh air, Michael wants it. 

Whatever other modifications Geoff’s friend has made, the upholstery is still the regular weird quasi-velvet his dad’s Impala had. Michael cozes into it, gets as much of his back on it as he can. It requires lounging back so his neck can make contact, so Michael commits. He closes his eyes, doesn’t twist to watch whatever way Geoff and Gavin have planned to get the water from the trash bag into the gas tank. They’ve got it, surely. Years of perfect fated partnership, they don’t need an audience to show off for to be happy at dual completion.

Michael cracks an eyelid when all three doors open and close, but only for a second. Only long enough to see that it’s Jack beside him and Gavin in the front seat. The arrangement kind of says it all. Gavin doesn’t want to sit beside him, what more does Michael need to know.

“I’m assuming you want this problem solved tonight?” Jack says.

“Fucking right I do.” If Jack finds a loophole for his hex, Michael can start eating again. It’d be nice to have ice cream to eat by the quart when Gavin stops replying to his texts. When? If? Who fucking knows at this point.

“Okay, so if you swing by around ten I’ll have it figured out.”

There’s an expectant pause that Michael doesn’t even attempt to fill. He doesn’’t know if that’s quick or slow. If association with Gavin is making him line-jump or if Jack’s grateful for the business. If they’re supposed to bicker a fee or if Jack’s charging him overtime for the weird hours.

“I live at-”

This Michael interrupts. “Text it at me so I can look up how to get there by bus.”

Geoff doesn’t offer to drive him and Gavin doesn’t volunteer him. Michael’s not all that surprised. After everything he and Gavin need a bit of breathing room, at the very least. Which, hey, he’s fuckin’ suspended, looks like he’s getting his wish. Michael rattles off his number and doesn’t bother to check when his phone vibrates a second later.

Jack splits off from them in the parking lot. If Michael had to guess he’d say Jack’s headed for street parking. He doesn’t really care though. The only way it matters to him is that he no longer has a buffer zone. Geoff and Gavin aren’t talking to each other, Gavin’s not even looking at him, and what possible thing could he have to say to Geoff? It makes the walk to the back door very silent.

Once they’re inside Morrison Tower Michael heads directly for the wall of post boxes. All that’s in his is coupons for luxuries he can’t afford, like fast food, but it serves its purpose. Doing so takes long enough that he misses the elevator Geoff and Gavin get on.

It’s not until he gets inside, locks his door and sees the heaping laundry basket of dirty clothes that Michael remembers he’s left his come stained underwear at Ray’s. The realisation should be the first step in getting them back, followed by texting Ray and telling him to hide them before one of his brothers needs to pee. Instead his heart stutters and skips a beat. That was some really awesome sex that ended awfully. He doesn’t want to think about where he left them. He doesn’t want to think about shaking in Ray’s bathroom trying to clean himself up. 

Suddenly he can feel it again. The cooling jizz and the shredding knowledge that he’s pathetic enough to buy into Gavin’s superficial change. It’s like watching Ryan doing a skit based on audience suggestions and then expecting him to really be a mineral miner from Saturn. It’s not their fault for making a good resemblance. It’s Michael’s for not seeing through it. It’s a dirty, nasty feeling, like sinking in tar. The aching hunger doesn’t help. Neither does the way he can’t stop shivering. There’s one solution though.

Or not.

Turns out the shower doesn’t cut it. Maybe it’s because it’s been too long since the sex. It’s a theory in doubt because a lot of times there’s a gap between afterglow and needing to recenter his mind. It’s the theory that allows him self control though, so it’s what he’s going with. His normal coping method has failed on a fluke, not because he needs one of his boyfriends to coddle him. He’ll just sleep and feel better. 

Well, nap. He can’t full out sleep until he gets back from Jack’s. Consolation prize being Jack’s house is, according to his transit app, close on the bus. Close enough that Michael could probably run it if he had any interest in athletics. But he doesn’t, so he’ll take the twenty minute bus ride, same route as to school but opposite side of the street.

If he falls asleep holding a pillow who the fuck has to know?

***

Michael would like to be able to ask Gavin what he’s in for.

Whatever it is, he’ll still do it. This kissing thing is complete bullshit, and it has to stop. It would still be nice to be prepared for swallowing a hot coal to burn the taste buds off his tongue, or to eat a bowlful of everything he’s eaten since he’s been hexed sprinkled with a reversal dust or to etcetera etcetera. There are a thousand different scenarios running through Michael’s head. It’s hard to judge the likelihood of any particular one when most of his knowledge is from movies and tv because his boyfriend doesn’t like talking about the realities. 

Michael’s not going to ask Gavin what he’s in for. Michael’s pretty sure if he texts him Gav won’t text back, and Michael can’t handle that right now, so silence it is.

Jack’s house is nice. Nicer than a guy in his mid-twenties should have. It’s a single storey, but it’s big, and the landscaping is impeccable. It might even be charmed to repel litter, since it’s the only house on the block that doesn’t have a can or crumpled juicebox or a cigarette butt on the lawn. Michael’s never really doubted that future master magician Gavin is destined for good things, unlike his college skipping dead weight self, but this is non-abstract proof. Jack’s been a master for six years and he can afford this. Gavin’s gonna be set.

The man’s skill level actually also bodes poorly for the price tag of his cure. Of course a supremely skilled master will charge more than an adult who just barely passed being a journeyman. But Michael doesn’t want to throw up so he’s not going to think about that. At this point his puke would only be burning stomach acid anyway. And it doesn’t really matter, since he’s not walking off the beautiful property now. Whatever it costs, he’ll pay it. Maybe he can start working Sundays, or sell some blood or something.

Jack opens the door before he rings the bell. The indoor light filters out around him, leaving his hair glowing bronze. Michael takes a step back, out of the shadow created by Jack’s outline. He crosses his arms and opens with a barb to regain some footing. “That was ominous.”

“Not really. I knew you were coming around then. Also my porch has a charm to let me know when visitors are here. You’d be surprised at how many people get as far as the house then lose their nerve.”

Michael nods jerkily. He can’t really blame the faceless nameless bunch. If his hex was even a little less destructive he’d probably say fuck it and deal with it. 

“Anyway, come in and we’ll talk it out.”

Michael’s pretty sure Jack’s office is what was once the master bedroom. The room itself is fairly big, room enough for a desk running from wall to wall, a couch and three arm chairs, and a second smaller desk facing the seating. What really proves Michael’s theory is the walk in closet. Guest bedrooms don’t have spaces that large. The door’s only halfway open but Michael can see a hell of a lot more books than he could ever imagine Gavin reading.

He sits in the rightmost armchair, the one closest to the door. The padding conforms to his body perfectly. Michael has a second to wonder if it’s a charmed chair or if it’s just top-end furniture before Jack is settled in behind the desk and his attention involuntarily refocuses. Jack’s got a clear aura of authority. Different than Principal Loch, but better. It’s not the type of authority that Michael’s used to, the kind that wants to crush shoulders beneath guiding hands until he has no choice but to go in the right direction. Jack’s command comes from friendly superior knowledge. Just from this tableau, Michael can see how Jack will be a good master for a journeyman one day.

Jack puts a piece of paper down on the desk and pushes it across the table. Michael doesn’t pick it up. His hands are sort of frozen in fists on his knees, arms rigid against his thighs. Just because Jack’s a good guy doesn’t mean that anything else about his situation is better.

“So I typed up your treatment plan. It’s pretty simple, comparatively, but it’s my standard procedure. Sometimes people need magic so badly that they aren’t listening to everything I’m saying. I mean, in your specific case you could ask Gavin to ask me, but-”

Michael cuts off Jack. “Yeah, that’s not gonna happen. The three of us have been dating since sophomore year and you know how many conversations we’ve had about magic? Zero. Gav keeps it separate.”

Jack nods slightly, like a puzzle piece has just clicked into place. “And that’s why you couldn’t trust him to tell him. Don’t worry, Geoff and I talked to him about it.”

Michael will believe it when he sees it. Ryan talked to Gavin about feelings and look how long that lasted. “So, magic to counteract my hex.”

“Like I said, pretty simple.” Jack spins in his chair towards the working desk behind him. When he turns back he has a tube of toothpaste in hand. “From what I observed, and what Gavin could remember, the hex doesn’t compel you to seek out an eater, it just forces you once someone’s been found. That means if you brush your teeth with this altered toothpaste no one else has, there will never be a match. You’ll obviously need to do it three times a day. Maybe less if you eat dinner alone.”

“So really, I could just eat weird shit and gamble on people not eating the same.”

“I mean, you could. But running on a diet of gravy covered pancakes and horseradish seems like a shitty way to live life. Besides, you take public transport and go to a school with over two thousand students. What are the chances you’ll never meet someone who had toast and bananas for breakfast?”

Michael laughs grimly. It’s literally already happened. He ate toast with vanilla pear jam on Friday, and so did Ray.

“So what’s this adding up to?”

“The consult and the work tonight? A hundred. In the future five bucks per tube of toothpaste, no hours logged.”

Objectively Michael knows it’s a good deal. Doctors don’t waive fees for checkups. Jack’s doing him a solid. But realistically speaking a hundred bucks is a huge blow. Especially considering he needs to replace groceries. A kind of hysterical laugh bubbles out of him before he can clamp down on it.

“While I’m here might as well ask. Any way you can make me win the lottery?”

Jack shakes his head. “Gambling and the stock market have the largest amount of anti-influence masters of any industry. It’s not gonna happen.”

“That’s okay, I can just sell a kidney.”

Jack’s responding laugh trails off quickly. “You’re joking, right?”

“I mean, I won’t harvest my organs. And it’s not like it’s not worth it. I just wasn’t exactly expecting this. There’s no contingency money.” There’s really not. He has a busted into college fund, because surviving takes precedence over the typical teen becoming a man experience. It’s close to dry though, and it needs to last in case of a real emergency, like Sweet Pulp sucumbing to the strip mall’s hex and going under.

“Yeah, it sucks. You know, if you press charges you could sue for side effect bills paid.”

There’s a whole host of reasons that’s a bad idea. They run the gamut from groupie copycat crimes, which tend to retarget past victims, to the cost of a lawyer probably outweighing a settlement price, to that it would fucking kill him for someone in the family to rehear his name in that way after so long excommunicated. It’ll prove them right, and Michael can’t stand that idea.

“I’ll think about it,” Michael says. There’s no reason to spit on the advice, even if it is dumb. Jack’s just trying to help. Maybe Jack will be the next Ms OConnell, an adult who’s not a completely useless d-bag.

“So that’s it. Uh, I mean-”

“Get the fuck out?” Michael suggests. It’s not like it offends him if Jack says what he’s thinking. He’s a master, not a nurse, he doesn’t have to have a spectacular bedside manner.

“Nothing as strong as that, come on. I’m watching a Mad Man marathon, you can stay if you want.”

“Nah. I’m gonna go home and figure out which lung to scalp.” At Jack’s expression he hurries to add, “kidding, kidding.” Wouldn’t want the guy to have a heart attack.

What he really does is spends the whole trip home hyperventilating about how to rearrange his funds. Not that there’s really much he can do about it. Mr Watson already set him up with the best possible arrangement, back when he was helping Michael get emancipated. It’s only a few more months until Ryan moves in with him. He can make it. Probably.

As he’s fumbling with his front door key his phone buzzes in his pocket. Michael makes a decision to ignore it. Whomever it is, he can deal with it tomorrow. A few hour nap has not prepared him for another bout of drama.

The resolution lasts as long as it takes for the elevator to make it to the lobby. Before the metal doors are sliding shut Michael’s pulling up the missed text.

**it’s after ten. how’d your cure go?**

It’s from Ray, who, depending on the tone Michael reads it in, is either jokey or concerned. One thing he’s not is holding a grudge about earlier. It makes Michael more confident in typing back what he does.

**no more kissing randoms**

**glad i clocked in before deadline**

Michael hesitates a second before sending **me too**. That’s not too sappy, is it? It’s not like he’s saying love after one date.

**ryan says hey**

**oh he’s still there?** Michael doesn’t know why he didn’t think Ryan would stick around. Ray’s family obviously doesn’t care about last minute plans, as proven by Gavin.

**yeah. sleepover in the basement. as long as we keep our pants on my brothers know nothing**

On one hand, that sweet spot of ignorance and stealth bodes well for future date. On the other it’s more closeted behaviour, and everyone except Ray knows the downfalls of that shit. Michael doesn’t know what to think about the text, what his primary reaction should be. Better to just change the subject slightly. **if he leaves early morning don’t be offended. he’s major minoring**

**yeah homework and shit. I get it.**

**speaking of, if you and gavin don’t already have something figured out i can bring you yours on monday.**

**didn’t talk about it with him. so you could** Does he even have to do homework while suspended? It’s not like he’s out with mono or something, they’re specifically barring him from education. Why would they want assignments based on classes he didn’t attend? Which, shit, that reminds him. He’s still gotta figure out where the fuck to do the side project about the wood for Ms O’Connell. 

**cool. text you tomorrow then about where to meet up**

That answer is pretty obvious to Michael. Ray can meet him at Sweet Pulp, since that’s where he is all evening, every weekday evening. It’s that or Ray comes to Michael’s apartment after his shift, and the one rule he knows the Narvaezes do have is curfew based. But he doesn’t text that back to him, because it’ll be an excuse for Ray to text him throughout the day. Michael might be a bleak mood at the moment, but there’s no reason to actively fuck his future self over.

Which, on the same line of thinking... ‘Ryan says hey’ is probably not a good enough late night conversation for the boyfriend in question. Things are good with Ray and complicated with Gavin. He’d like to keep the drama as contained as possible. Michael locks his door, kicks off his shoes, flicks to contacts and presses the green phone.

“I’m kind of surprised you called,” Ryan starts with instead of saying hello. There’s not much sound in the background. He must be hiding in the bathroom. 

“Why. Be specific.” Michael demands. So much for keeping drama contained. Oh well. Fuck it. They both know Ryan shouldn’t have talked behind his back to Gavin about that subdrop bullshit.

Ryan sighs a little. “You’re trying to bait me and I don’t care.”

Michael’s pacing now. He could be lounging on his bed, or sitting on the counter, but pacing makes him feel better. It’s a good substitute for his inability to shout in Ryan’s face. “No, I’m trying to get you to admit you fucked up and you don’t care. Still think you’re right. Whatever. Can we fucking not?”

“It would be an incredibly shitty idea to not.” 

“Oh, you think so? You think it’s important that we talk like big boys do? Because you didn’t text me or call me. I had to sit in the car with fuckin’ Gavin and fuckin’ Geoff and their fuckin’ friend, and it was silent as shit!”

If anything Ryan sighs harder. “I thought you wanted to be left alone to nap. I was respecting your wishes, not ignoring you, asshole.”

“Look. I’m going to bottom line it and you’re going to listen because you respect me or whatever. And then we’re going to shut up and talk about something else. What you want and what Gavin wants are two different things. And I’m fine with that. What I’m not fine with is when you try to make Gavin like you and he tries and then takes it back. You’re always telling me to fuck off about Geoff. Fine, I will. You fuck off with the-” Michael doesn’t have the right words to describe it. “The whatever. The thing you’ve been doing this week. You can do it, but don’t fuck with Gavin. Because it sucks.”

“I don’t- Fine. If it bothers you that much I’ll get him to stop so you don’t get a double whammy.”

Michael could explain that it’s not an over-abundance of caretaking that’s bugging him, but he won’t. He’s done with this.

“For the record though-”

“Yeah? Got my ledger,” Michael interrupts.

“It’s not a fair trade. I don’t have to tell you to stop about Geoff anymore. You like him.”

That’s stupid, and Michael would kick Ryan in the shin if they were in the same room for saying it. “The entire end of the night was everyone realising I can’t control who I kiss. How does that translate into liking Geoff?”

“He’s hot. More specifically, you think he’s hot. And he’s kind to Gav, and not manipulative like you’ve always worried, so you trust him about your boi.”

Michael could go the honest route and admit Ryan’s right, then ask Ryan to not tell Gavin. That way’s the dumb way though, because the last time he asked Ryan to keep something from Gav he instead manipulated the situation and made everything worse. So fuck honesty. “Yeah, whatever.”

“So Jack found you a loophole?”

“Yeah. I basically have to brush my teeth as soon as I eat. Charmed toothpaste, I guess.”

“That’s cool. Better than some of the solutions I thought up myself.”

“Considering one of mine was burn the taste buds off my tongue so it can’t tell what I’ve just eaten, shit yeah. What was the goriest one you thought up?”

“You really want to hear?”

“What, like I’m gonna get nightmares?” Michael snorts. When he does have nightmares they’re not semi-realistic. They’re always like lakes of acid blood and eldritch horrors. “Tell me something terrible and then go cuddle up with Ray and watch some Teletubbies to sooth your innocent soul if you need to.”

Ryan laughs directly into the cell, loud in Michael’s ear. It’s a sweet sound, one that Michael’s recorded before. It’s a reminder that he’s got a bunch of stuff recorded of his boys from earlier, before the sex, when everything was happy. Whittling it down to soundbites for his alarm app will be something to do over the next few days. Something that’ll relieve the misery that he’s already sure will fall down on him when he gets particularly bored or lonely. 

Ryan says _I love you_ when he hangs up. Michael says it back, because he knows the other half of Team CrazyMad means it. Ryan loves him, even if he’s a schemer. Ray likes him, despite the false pretenses. Things will work out with Gavin, because they have to. He’s got a cure that’ll work out or he’ll be refunded. It’s about the best that Michael could hope for. Time to go to bed.


End file.
